


i made every mistake

by CyrusBreeze



Series: The Other 51 [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Not Beta'd, Other, The Author Has No Idea How Politics Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrusBreeze/pseuds/CyrusBreeze
Summary: George Washington has made a million mistakes: impregnating Rachel Faucette Hamilton is not one of them. What he does when he finds out this news 25 years later definitely is.orThe one where George Washington finds out his intern is actually his illegitimate love child.(Can be read as a standalone fic)





	i made every mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This took forever to write, and I'm still not exactly happy with the product, but it is what it is. 
> 
> This installment was brought to you by being a terrible spectator at my younger sister's gymnastics meet, spring break, not doing homework, Jolly Ranchers, and Mt. Dew. It was also brought to you by using my personal hotspot in the library because my lovely Baptist college blocked AO3. 
> 
> Per usual, this is unbeta'd, but if anyone is interested in working on this project with me, hit me up. 
> 
> Also, please excuse the vague politic references. After twelve years of public and private education and three hours of crash courseUS Gov, I still have no idea how our government works, so please accept this apology. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: The only one I can really think of is dissociation and implied flashbacks. Beyond that, there is some implied child abuse. Please let me know if any others need to be added.

George was absolutely exhausted. He had been up until 2 working on a bill, and he had an official business meeting at exactly 7:15. He wanted to prepare for it, so he had taken a nap and then headed into the office. He was blindly digging in his briefcase searching for his office key when he nearly stumbled over a lump in the middle of the hallway. 

“Good morning, sir,” said a voice. 

George blinked at the bright, cheery intern. “Mr. Hamilton, it’s good to see you,” He said. He was genuinely surprised to see anyone, much less an intern, here at 6 o’clock in the morning. “What brings you here this morning?” 

“I work here?” Hamilton said, as if it were both a question and also completely obvious. 

“Right, of course,” George smiled. He opened the door to his office. “It’s nice to see someone with such excellent work ethic. How’d you get in here anyway? They usually don’t open the doors to workers without key access until 7.”

“I’m friends with one of the guards,” Hamilton answered. “I bought him coffee every day last summer and he actually likes me.” 

“I’m glad our national security can be compromised by caffeine,” George mused sarcastically. 

Hamilton laughed out loud. “I’d hardly call it compromising national security. I have an ID card and access to the building during regular hours. It was just getting in early that took bribery.” 

“Why are you here so early anyway?” George asked as Hamilton settled at his desk. It was only Hamilton’s fifth day, but George could tell that he was eager and hardworking. 

“I just wanted to get a head start on work this morning,” Alex responded. It sound extremely practiced, like he had known exactly what he was going to say for quite some time, like it wasn’t the truth. 

George arched an eyebrow, a trick he had learned from parenting Jacky and Patsy. Both of them were terrible liars, and they would recant their stories almost immediately if he was skeptical. He doubted it would work on Hamilton, but it was worth a shot. 

To George’s shock, Hamilton burned bright red. “I’m actually in the doghouse, and the couch isn’t comfortable.”

George chuckled. He couldn’t relate very well, although when he and Martha fought, which was rare, he usually ended up on the futon in the guest room. “That’s understandable.” 

“My wife thinks I work too much,” continued Hamilton. 

George again arched his eyebrow and gestured to the surroundings. “I’m not sure this is going to help.” 

“I got the kids up and dressed and took them to daycare,” Hamilton countered. “Which was the basis of the majority of our argument.” 

“You have kids?” George asked. This was news to him, considering that Hamilton looked fairly young, although he didn’t make a point of getting involved in his interns lives. After all, most of them were only there for the summer or a single semester.

Hamilton pointed to a picture frame on his desk. “Frances will be five in July, Phillip is four, and Angie just turned two.” 

George peered at the picture. The two older kids were grinning at the camera. Frances had long curly hair and freckles. Philip looked similar, but his curls were cut closer to his head. Angie, however, was nearly a carbon copy of Hamilton. George smiled. The kids were precious, making George long for grandchild. Jack had just graduated and had no plans for marriage, and although Patsy had gotten married, she was still in college. He wanted both his kids to be happy, so he would wait for little feet to again patter around the house. “You have cute kids,” said George. 

“Thanks.” Hamilton grinned. “They’re amazing, light of my life.”

“I have two kids, they’re both adults now, so cherish these moments while you can.” George was perfectly aware that he sounded like every other old person attempting to give parenting advice. 

“Believe me, I know.” Hamilton chuckled. “Frances and Philip already have such an attitude that I’m dreading their teenage years.”

“Those are always wild.” George smiled, remembering Patsy’s punk rock face and Jacky’s outright rebellion. “But enough reminiscing today. I’ve got a meeting at 7:15 this morning. Would you like to come?” 

Hamilton nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir, absolutely,” he babbled. “Thank you.”

George smiled at the kid. There was something familiar in him. Perhaps he saw himself in the boy. He was quite unsure. “Good,” He said. “Grab a notebook. I need notes.” 

-X- 

Hamilton was relentless. He was the first intern in the office, always, and the last one to leave. George could absolutely see why his wife believed that he worked too much. He spent as much time in the office as George did, sometimes even longer. 

George rewarded his work ethic with meetings and assignments that were just above his pay grade, or lack thereof. He didn’t take into account the effect it would have on Hamilton’s relationship with the other interns, not until he overheard them talking in the dining hall. 

“What do you think that Hamilton boy is doing to get on Washington’s good side?” He heard one man, Seabury, if George wasn’t mistaken. The other man sitting at the table was Charles Lee. 

George was curious now, so he sat at a table near them that was blocked by the wall. 

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked if he’s sucking Washington’s dick; the man seems like such a closet case,” Lee offered. “His wife is drop dead gorgeous, and they have no kids together? No way the man is straight.” 

George shifted uncomfortably. Did these men really believe that the only way to get to the top was through unethical favors? He couldn’t deny being a “closet case” although he was both asexual and aromantic and he and his wife had never actually “consummated” their relationship. They were simply very close friends. 

“Wasn’t there a rumor that Hamilton slept with Thomas Jefferson last summer?” Seabury agreed. 

“That was false,” Lee countered. “Jefferson is so painfully straight it hurts. But Washington, he’s a closeted queer if I ever saw one.” 

George snorted softly. The men weren’t wrong. 

“There’s always the possibility that Hamilton’s is Washington’s by-blow,” Seabury said thoughtfully. 

George froze. There was absolutely no way. 

“You really need to stop reading literature written in the 1700s, Sam,” said Lee. “Seriously, by-blow is such an outdated term it’s not even funny. But I didn’t even consider that perspective. Now that I think about it, they do kinda look alike. But that might be a little much, why would you parade your bastard child around the office for all to see? I have doubts.” 

George closed his eyes and tried to consider Hamilton’s profile for a moment. There were some similarities, but not nearly enough. There was no way. 

“Isn’t Hamilton from Louisiana, though?” Said Seabury. “And Washington was stationed in Ft. Polk around the time that Hamilton was born. Plus, haven’t you heard the rumors that Rachel Hamilton didn’t even know who Alex’s Dad was.” 

“That’s a reach,” Lee countered. “And how do you know all this anyway? Stalking isn’t going to get you anywhere.” 

“Hamilton told me where he was originally from, and Washington’s military records are freely available,” Seabury said simply. 

George couldn’t move from his seat even if he tried. Hamilton. Rachel Hamilton? Were they connected? Had he fathered a child with the only woman he had ever had sex with? It was just as likely as it was unlikely. 

He needed to talk to Hamilton, but he was out of his office today, for once in his life. 

He didn’t have to wait long to talk to him however, because waiting in his Senate inbox was an invitation to dinner with his fellow Virginia Senator and Alexander Hamilton. That was an enigma. He knew that Hamilton had worked for Senator Jefferson, but hadn’t known that they had maintained a relationship. Dinner, however, would be the perfect way to extract information from Hamilton about his family, more specially his mother. 

He sent back an email accepting the invitation, and then got to work on researching the new bipartisan bill. 

-X- 

In George’s defense, he had not, not even in the slightest, intended to be so early to Jefferson’s apartment. He had given himself ample time to navigate to Jefferson’s house and park, and he had somehow ended up a half hour earlier, which was fine, he hoped at least. He had pressed the buzzer, and the housekeeper had buzzed him in. 

He had taken the elevator to the penthouse, because of course Jefferson was flashy with his money. And the door to Jefferson’s apartment was open. In retrospect, George should’ve knocked anyway, but he had sort of assumed being buzzed in by the housekeeper constituted as knocking. And hindsight was 20/20. He really, really should’ve have knocked. 

If he had knocked, we would not have seen his intern/possible illegitimate love child with his tongue down Jefferson’s throat. 

In retrospect, he also could’ve turned around and walked out silently and then pretended to knock. But instead, he cleared his throat, and the two men sprang apart instantly. 

“Senator Washington,” Hamilton began, his ears, face, and neck burning red. “You’re early.”

George gave what he hoped was a smile, but he was still in shock from the scene before him. 

Jefferson was panting and his was clutching the counter with such rigor that George could see his muscles bulging. 

“I should’ve knocked,” He said sheepishly. 

“I should go talk to Sally about letting people in without notifying me,” Jefferson stuttered. He turned, and then disappeared into the apartment. 

George knew he couldn’t keep the disappointment of his face. It was a mix of everything: his intern/possible son cheating on his wife, him cheating with a closeted republican, and him not being extremely careful about how he went about this. 

“You’re not going to say anything,” Hamilton said matter-of-factly. The blush in his cheeks was gone, but George could still hear the nervousness in his voice. 

“What makes you assume that?” George shot back, feeling his irritation at the situation rise. George wasn’t going to say anything, but Hamilton was certainly being presumptuous. 

“You’re a good man,” said Alex. “You’re not going to ruin someone’s career over where they decide to put their dick. You’re not going to say anything. We’re going to have dinner like nothing happened. And then later I’ll explain everything to you if you want.”

George sighed. He certainly wanted to know what on earth had possessed Hamilton to have a sexual relationship with Jefferson, but more than anything he wanted confirmation, one way or the other, as to whether or not Hamilton could possible be his son. 

He sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. “I was never going to say anything in the first place, but I do want to talk to you about this.” 

Hamilton just nodded his agreement. “I’m going to go check on Thomas.” 

-X- 

Dinner went smoothly after that, if not a bit awkward. They discussed the bill neutrally, and Hamilton took notes. For who, George wasn’t sure. He hoped that it was for him, but he had no idea the extent of Hamilton’s devotion to Jefferson however. 

The real discussion however, ended up being on a bill that would provide more government jobs for citizens of Virginia. Hamilton became especially passionate about it, and George watched Jefferson watch Hamilton with a look of pure, unadulterated lust. 

George shifted uncomfortably again. His son or not, George had issues with Hamilton cheating on his wife with someone more than 15 years his senior. There was a severe power imbalance, and most senators knew better than to date interns or lower level staffers. It almost never ended well. 

Hamilton was undoubtedly brilliant, and by the time he was done, George had made up his mind about a bill that he had been on the fence about. 

Dinner was drawing to a close, however, and George knew his window of opportunity was shrinking. 

“Where are you from?” George asked. 

Hamilton looked up. “Louisiana, originally,” he answered. “But, I moved to New York after my mom passed away.” 

“She... died?” George said, his voice cracking. It was news to him. His first real friend was dead. 

Hamilton nodded. “Pneumonia,” he answered. “We couldn’t afford healthcare, and while the community health center did their best, we couldn’t afford anything more. That’s why I’m passionate about reforming our healthcare system and eliminating poverty.” 

George bit his lip, hard enough that he could feel the metallic taste fill his mouth. His possible son had grown up in abject poverty, and he had done nothing. 

“That’s a good thing to motivate you,” Thomas interjected, filling the awkward silence. 

“And what about your dad?” George asked. 

Hamilton visibly flinched. “My stepdad left when I was a kid, and I don’t know who my biological dad is, but I’m not sure I want to talk about this.” 

“Right, right,” George said quickly. “That was out of line. I apologize, son.” 

“I’m not your son,” Hamilton cut him off. 

George stared at his empty plate. This was going very poorly. “What about your brother?” 

Hamilton flinched again. “He passed away when I was 11. How’d you know about him?” 

George froze and attempted to backpedal. “You must have mentioned him.”

“Right,” Hamilton clenched his teeth awkwardly. 

“I should get going,” George said quickly, wanting to end the awkward tension at the table. “My daughter is coming home for break, and I should probably be getting home.” 

“That sounds great, actually,” Jefferson said. “I trust that what happened here tonight stays here.” 

“Absolutely,” George said firmly. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

“Thank you,” Hamilton said. 

George stood and then placed his plate in Jefferson’s sink. 

Dinner had no gone as well as planned. He turned for the door. 

“Oh, and Senator Washington,” Hamilton called out. 

“Yes?” George turned around. 

“Do you wanna grab a beer at Harold Black tomorrow?” He asked. “We can talk.” 

George hated Harold Black. The bar was dingy and weird. But it was private. He could go for that. 

“Yeah,” He said. “That’ll work.” 

-X- 

George rarely did work in the office on a Saturday. However, he was working on a bill with his committee and they had had a meeting that morning. His only staff member that was there was Lafayette, his assistant. Lafayette was an extremely hard worker, and he had quickly become a friend of George’s. 

It was why, George had no qualms with asking him to help him get evidence of Hamilton’s paternity. 

“I have a question, Lafayette,” George said. 

Lafayette turned around in his swivel chair and faced the doorway where Washington stood. 

“Oui?” 

“If I needed you to do something for me, under the table, would you do it?” George asked. He was walking out on a limb here, but he needed help. 

“Is it illegal or just, how you say,” Lafayette paused, searching for the right word. “Unethical! That’s the word.” 

George cringed. “It’s technically illegal, but it’s really more unethical than anything.” 

“What is it?” Lafayette asked. 

George took a deep breath. “I think Hamilton is my son, but .” 

“And you want me to get a DNA sample for testing without him knowing?” Lafayette arched an eyebrow. “That’s...” Lafayette trailed off. “How sure are you that he’s your son?” Lafayette asked. 

“I’m almost positive,” Washington said. “But I don’t want to tell him in case I’m not.”

Lafayette steepled his fingers and sighed deeply. “Let it be said that I don’t agree with it, but I’ll do it, but only if you promise to tell him as soon as results are in.”

“Absolutely,” Washington said. “Thank you Lafayette.”

Lafayette held up a hand in protest. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m unsure if I’ll even be successful. But I’m serious George, you have to promise that you will tell him if he is your son immediately.” 

“I will,” George said firmly. He knew in his heart of hearts that he was lying. 

-X- 

Harold Black was nearly empty when George entered later that day.

He found Hamilton sitting at a table, sipping a beer and eating pretzels. George hoped the dinginess of the bar wasn’t a reflection of the kitchen, because if it was, George didn’t trust the food as far as he could throw it 

“Hey,” Hamilton said, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Hey,” George responded, offering a small smile. 

“I got you a beer.” Hamilton gestured to the bottle sitting on the other side of the table. 

George slid into the booth. He disliked beer. He preferred whiskey or scotch or in a pinch, wine, but beer was a whole other story. Still, he sipped at it cautiously. 

“Son,” George began. 

“I’m not your son,” Hamilton cut off. 

You might be. George wanted to say. “Sorry. Hamilton, I’m going to be honest. I was disappointed to say the least, when I walked in on you guys yesterday. I don’t care if you’re gay-“ 

“I’m not gay,” Hamilton interjected. 

“What I care about is that you’re cheating on your wife. This can cause you to lose everything, Hamilton: your career, your job, and more importantly, your family. Affairs destroy families, Hamilton.” 

“I’m not having an affair,” Hamilton said defiantly. 

George arched an eyebrow. 

“My wife knows about me and Jefferson. She’s given me her permission to have a relationship with him,” Hamilton explained. 

“That’s-“ George paused thoughtfully. He had read about this, when Martha had come home with a copy of the Ethical Slut. “Are you polyamorous?” 

Hamilton nodded. “I’m surprised you know the term.” 

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, s- Hamilton,” he corrected himself. “But, even if your wife knows, you should be careful, what if it was Madison that walked in and not me?” 

Hamilton snorted. “Madison is...” he trailed off. 

“Of course,” George chuckled. “Is any prominent Virginia congressman heterosexual?”

“Rutherford is a raging heterosexual,” Hamilton said. “He’s has like four girlfriends in the year that I’ve known him.” 

“He could be overcompensating,” George noted jokingly. 

Hamilton laughed out loud. “I wouldn’t doubt it. So, you said none of the Virginia congressmen are heterosexual, does that mean you are...?” 

“I’m asexual,” George said. 

At Hamilton’s look of utter confusion, George tried to explain.“I don’t experience-“ 

“I know what asexual is,” Hamilton said. “Thomas is on that spectrum. But, with all due respect, you’re married. You have children.” 

“Once upon a time, benefits for military widows were awful. Martha had a toddler and was pregnant and her husband died and she had literally nothing. Her husband was my best friend, and I told her upfront that I was marrying her to provide for her. We both are on the asexual spectrum, so it ended up working very well for us. And Patsy and Jack are the best thing to have ever happened to me.” 

Hamilton didn’t get to say anything in response se because his phone rang. He stepped away from the table and answered it. 

He returned a minute later with an apologetic smile. “Philip fell and they think he broke his arm, so I’m going to have to head out, but it was nice talking to you Senator.” 

“Nice talking to you too,” George agreed. He hadn’t gotten answers about why Hamilton was dating Jefferson, but if Hamilton was confident that he and Jefferson could keep their relationship secret and Hamilton had his wife’s permission, then who was George to judge.

-X- 

Lafayette came into his office three days later after nine. Almost everyone was gone except for the two of them. 

“Good evening,” George said. 

Lafayette dropped a ziplock baggie on the desk. 

“There’s several pieces of hair in there, with the root still intact,” Lafayette said. “According to the encyclopédie, they should be able to get DNA off of that.” 

“How did you-?” 

Lafayette cut him off. “Please don’t ask that Senator Washington.” He handed Washington a tube. “All you have to do is swab the inside of your cheek. I found a DNA center that is reliable but doesn’t ask too many questions. Several senators have used this to confirm illegitimate children or issues that they wanted to make go away.” 

“I’m not going to make Alex go away,” George said defensively. “I just want to know if he’s my son.” 

“Of course, Senator,” Lafayette agreed. “I’m just saying that this lab will not have any questions as to whether or not you have the consent of all parties involved. If you swab now, I can drop it off for you tonight, and they’ll have the results to you by Thursday.” 

“That’s efficient,” Washington said as he removed the cap and pulled out the brush. He swabbed his cheek carefully and then replaced the brush in the tube. “I can’t thank you enough, Lafayette.” 

“It is no problem, Senator. I do wish you the best of luck with your results. It is a noble thing you are doing, to claim your child after so long. My younger brother was a bâtard until my father claimed him when he was three.” Lafayette took the sample and the bag with the hair. “I will drop off the samples tonight and have the results to you soon.”

As Lafayette left his office, George felt a heavy weight curl up and settle into his chest. 

-X- 

Lafayette handed him a thick envelope on Thursday evening. 

“Good luck, sir,” he said, and then he left the room.

George stared at the envelope for only a few seconds before he tore it open. The first page simply explained the process of DNA extraction and gave an inventory of the samples. The first part of the second page was an analysis of the DNA that George didn’t understand. He skipped the page until his eyes landed on the paragraph at the end. 

**Analysis:**  
In all analyzed PCR systems, Sample A does show the genetic markers which have to be present for the biological father of the child Sample B. The biostatistical analysis of the PCR systems was performed according to the method of Essen-Möller. The probability of Sample A being the biological father of Sample B is greater than 99.9999 %. 

**Conclusion:**  
Based on our analysis, it is practically proven that Sample A is the biological father of the child Sample B. 

He was a father. He was, most certainly, a father. He had a biological child, a biological child, a child who he had never known about, a child who was currently sitting outside his office as an intern. Life was cruel. 

He stared at the paper for a long moment, until his tears fell on the paper. He opened his desk drawer and placed the envelope in it. He did not want to have to look at the physical proof of his failure ever again. 

-X- 

Virginia’s Family Day was usually a big hit. All of the senators, staffers, and interns got together for a massive barbecue the Saturday after the Fourth of July. It was an opportunity for networking outside of the office that interns would die for and that senators and representatives took for granted. 

George was attending with Martha, lamenting the fact that it was his first year without any of his kids with him. Both of them were taking summer classes and had elected not to attend. 

He was surprised, while in line for a hotdog, to see Thomas Jefferson’s daughter carrying what looked to be Philip Hamilton, which confirmed that Hamilton was telling the truth about his wife knowing, not that George suspected him of lying. 

Still, seeing Hamilton’s son, his grandchild, in person made his chest feel tight. 

“You okay?” Martha asked, noting the way that he had tensed at the sight. 

“I’m fine,” George said, shaking his head to clear his mind. “I just saw Jefferson’s daughter.” 

“How are they?” Martha asked. “I know their mom passed away just over two years ago.” 

“They’re good, I think,” George said. “Last I saw the two of them was spring break. I believe they spent the first part of the summer with their grandparents.” 

Martha grabbed a hotdog and followed George’s line of sight. 

“Who’s she holding?” Martha asked. 

“That’s actually my intern’s son. He interned under Jefferson last year, and I guess they kept in contact.” 

“We should go say hi,” Martha suggested. 

George wanted to say something about not going over, and keeping his distance. But instead, he followed Martha to where Mattie Jefferson was trying to balance Philip and two plates. 

“Perhaps it may be easier if you put the baby down, Ms. Jefferson,” George found himself teasing. 

“I’m not a baby,” Philip snapped, and he squirmed until Mattie put him down. George stared at him. He was tall and lanky, especially for a four year old. He had a bright purple cast on his right arm, and he was smiling. His freckles were more pronounced than in the picture; due to the sun most likely. 

“Where’s your dad at?” George asked. 

Mattie set down one of the plates and then pointed across the field, where Jefferson was sitting on a picnic blanket near the Hamilton family. It was an odd sight to see, but to the untrained eye it simply appeared to be a former mentor and mentee enjoying a picnic. To George, it was clear that the two men, the two lovers, were enjoying each other’s company while in the company of their family. 

They followed Mattie toward where her father was. 

“I broke my arm,” Philip was saying, far too cheery for a child with a broken limb. “My cast is purple cuz it’s pretty, and my Papì drew a turtle on it.” 

“Your cast looks super cool, Pip,” Mattie agreed. “And I like your turtle.” 

“What’s your name?” Phillip asked George and Martha. 

“That’s Senator Washington,” Mattie said. 

“But you can call me George,” or grandpa his brain supplied unhelpfully. 

“And what’s your name?” Philip pointed an accusing finger at Martha. 

“I’m Martha,” she said. 

“Mattie’s other name is Martha!” Philip shrieked. “You guys have the same name!” 

“He’s had a lot of sugar,” Mattie explained. “He’s very excited.” 

“Wanna sign my cast?” Philip asked as they approached where Jefferson and Hamilton were sitting. “Daddy has markers.” 

“Thanks for taking Pip to get another hotdog,” Hamilton said as Martha settled down onto her dad’s picnic blanket. They were sitting about 4 feet apart, but it was still close enough for the two families to mix and mingle. 

“It’s no problem, really,” Mattie said. “He’s a good kid. I hope you don’t mind that we brought guests.” 

“That’s fine, great actually,” said Hamilton. He gestured to a woman sitting on the picnic blanket. She had long jet black hair, and on her lap sat Angie. “Senator Washington, this is my wife, Eliza. Eliza, this is Senator Washington. You’ve already met Pip, but this is Frances.” He pointed to the small kindergarten age child who was eating chips while engrossed in a book. “And the sleeping little one is Angie.” 

“I would offer to shake your hand, but there’s kinda dead weight sitting in my lap.” Eliza chuckled softly. 

“This is my wife, Martha,” George said with a smile. “Do you guys mind if we sit?” 

“Not at all,” Eliza said. 

Alex reached forward and moved some of their things out of the way, and both George and Martha sat down. 

“So,” Eliza began. “Alex has told me a lot about you.” 

“Is that so?” George asked, genuinely curious. His son was talking about him. 

“Absolutely,” Eliza said. “You’re always coming up at the dinner table, whenever he’s home for dinner, that is.” 

“I’ll try to let him off earlier more often,” George said with a chuckle. 

Eliza shook her head and offered an easy smile. “He absolutely loves working late, and I suppose I should get used to the hours and if this is how he plans to spend the remainder of his career.” 

“It does take some getting used to,” Martha agreed. “But I wouldn’t change George’s Work hours for anything. He absolutely loves what he’s doing.” 

George smiled easily, and the five adults felt into easy conversation that stayed mostly away from politics. 

They talked about the unseasonably warm weather, preschool, colleges, and everything in between. After the sunset, they watched the fireworks being shot off in the field. Philip demanded that George be the one to help him with his sparkler, and by the time the day was over, George was exhausted. 

But he was happy, he had spent the entire day with his biological hold, and that was worth its weight in gold. 

-X- 

July melted into August and George knew that his opportunity for telling Hamilton about his parentage was dwindling. He had promised Lafayette that he would do it immediately, but immediately had come and gone and the results still sat in his desk, read stained and untouched. 

He was terrified of ruining the easy relationship he had developed with his son. He valued Hamilton as a member of his staff and as a child he was hard working, brilliant, and determined. He wanted to get to know Hamilton more, so he ended up taking him to more meetings and other events. 

The other interns stopped talking about what Hamilton was doing to get to the top. After all, it was abundantly clear that Hamilton put in thirteen hour days and extra work with no complaint. He did scut work and ran errands and worked his ass off. No intern was willing to actually try to compete with him. 

Things were going very smoothly. 

It was why, when Hamilton approached him in his office one night, fuming, George was confused. 

“What’s wrong, son?” George asked. He called everyone son, including people who were older than him. It was a habit. 

“I’m not your goddamn son,” Hamilton grit out. “Or maybe I am, but that’s beyond the point.” Hamilton slammed the orange folder on Washington’s desk. 

“How did you? What were you snooping in my desk?” George asked. 

Hamilton shook his head fiercely. “You don’t get to take the moral high ground here”, he growled. “Lafayette and I went out last Saturday, and he got drunk felt guilty and told me that the time he yanked out my hair wasn’t an accident. Then, he asked if you had told me anything. I didn’t think anything of it and figured that you weren’t my biological dad. It wasn’t until Lafayette told me to go find a memo in your too drawer that I found the results.” 

“Alex,” George began. 

Hamilton scoffed. “You can call me Hamilton. You are not my father.” 

“Hamilton,” George tried again. “This was not my intent, I didn’t mean to-“ 

“Why now?” Hamilton demanded, cutting him off. “Is it because I’m trying to make a name for myself that you’re suddenly interested in me? Is it because you feel some delayed guilt for leaving my father with her abusive husband after knocking her up?” 

“Hamilton, I swear I didn’t know,” George said calmly, attempting to reason. His voice was threatening to crack. 

“Then why the secrecy?” Hamilton asked. “What did you have to hide if you didn’t know anything? Why did you perform a clandestine DNA test without my consent, which, by the way, is illegal, if you didn’t know?” 

Hamilton’s voice was rapidly rising, becoming almost hysterical, and while the only other person in the office was Lafayette, George did not want to run the risk of others hearing and spreading rumors. While his career would be safe, Hamilton’s would likely be destroyed. 

“Hamilton, you need to calm down,” George said sharply. 

“I don’t have to take orders for you!” Hamilton yelled, louder than ever. “You’re not my dad, and you’re certainly not my boss, because I quit.” 

“Hamilton, please,” George tried. 

The glared Hamilton leveled at him made his heart feel like lead. 

“With all due respect, Senator Washington, go to hell.” 

“Hamilton, I can explain, I-“ 

Hamilton slammed the door. 

-X- 

He took a cab home, because crying and driving didn’t work out well. 

And crying at the kitchen was how his wife found him. She was dressed nicely, perhaps she had been out with colleagues or even on a date. 

“George,” she said, his voice tinged with concern. She pulled a chair close to him and wrapped him into a hug. “What’s wrong?” 

“I have a child,” George sobbed. “A biological child, and he’s my intern, and I fucked it up.” 

“Oh, George,” Martha said, stroking his back. 

“He hates me, Martha,” George whispered. “He quit. He was abused by his stepdad, and it’s my fault. He had a horrible, awful childhood and I didn’t do anything about him. I didn’t know, if I knew, I swear I would have gone back for him.” 

He didn’t know what triggered it. Perhaps it was the realization that his son had likely endured years of abuse at the hands of his stepfather or the stress of the situation. Perhaps it was the realization that he couldn’t saved his son from a childhood that was so similar to George’s own: being abused and brutalized at the hands of his stepfather, hoping and praying for his real Dad to rescue him. 

But suddenly, George could not breathe. His entire body was shaking with sobs, which made it all the more harder to get oxygen to his lungs. He could feel, vaguely, Martha’s arms wrapped around him. 

He didn’t remember what happened after. 

-X- 

He woke up when his alarm went off at 5:30a the next morning. Marta was the big spoon, her arms wrapped tightly around his body. He had no idea how he had ended up in bed, but it was likely that Martha had guided him. It was Saturday, so he didn’t have to work, but his mind was buzzing already, and he knew that going back to sleep was not an option. 

Dissociation, his therapist had called it when he told her about how sometimes when he had flashbacks he would have gaps in his memory. He hadn’t had a flashback nor dissociated in quite some time, and the lack of memory bothered him. 

His head ached from his crying, but as he stretched and blinked to adjust to the light, he realized that he had an idea. 

He carefully peeled himself out of his wife’s arms and then stood and walked to his office. He grabbed his favorite pen and a sheet of lined paper and began to write. 

Dear Alexander, 

I have made so many mistakes in my life, but you are not one of them. Abandoning you, however, even if I didn’t know, is one that will haunt me forever. 

I met your mother when I was twenty-three years old and just out of West Point. They say West Point is among the most rigorous colleges in the US, and it most certainly is. It did play a massive role in the man that I have become, but I still held tight to my years of immaturity. 

I went out drinking with my officer buddies, which was where I met your mother. There were several good bars in Vernon Parish, but the best one was less than a mile from Polk. The bartenders would typically fight over who got the officers. We were wealthy, young, and unmarried, and most of us tipped fairly well. 

Your mom made amazing mixed drinks, and to this day, I have never tried a better Cosmopolitan. Perhaps it was the company that made things better. We talked for hours about everything: my job, Junior, the presidency, our hobbies, everything. 

She had mentioned that she was married, and that should have been a red flag for me, but I was young and immature. I did take her to my apartment on occasion, and considering the fact that you exist, I’m sure you’re aware of what happened. Although I loved your mother, the feelings I felt for her were most certainly platonic. I tried to convince myself that I felt otherwise, especially because some of my fellow officers were teasing me about being queer: which, twenty years ago, was illegal in almost every state, and it most certainly would have gotten me kicked out of the Army. 

We were in a “relationship” for over a year when two things happened: your stepfather found out, and I got orders to Germany. I proposed to your mother and begged her to leave your abusive father, she refused because she wanted Junior to grow up with his father. She broke off the relationship, I moved, and I presume James Sr. came home. 

Alex, if I had known about you, I would have, without hesitation, taken care of you, your mother, and Junior. I know firsthand what’s it’s like to grow up unwanted. When I was ten, my dad died, my mom remarried less than a year later, and my stepfather hated me. I would never, not in a million years, wish that on even my worst enemy, and I certainly wouldn’t wish it on my son. I am sorry that you had to experience such hell growing up. I’m sorry that you had to live in squalor and then in foster care. I wish that I could have been there. I wish that I could’ve done something. 

But however much I wish to have changed things, my behavior was inexcusable. I should have asked you consent before testing you DNA. Furthermore, I should have told you the truth immediately after finding out. I violated your privacy without your consent and then kept a major secret from you, and for that, I am truly sorry. 

I hope that you will one day forgive me. I enjoyed working with you and getting to know you this summer, and I hope that perhaps one day we may be able to work together again, or perhaps just get to know each other. 

Yours Respectfully,  
George Washington 

-X- 

George was absolutely exhausted. It was early May and most committees had been kicked into high drive trying to draft bills before the summer session came. He had been up until just after three working on a bill, and after a quick power nap at Senator Caroll’s apartment, he had two meetings at 8a, and he was trying to get a head start on the preparations for him. 

He was blindly digging in his briefcase searching for his office key when he nearly stumbled over a lump in the middle of the hallway. 

He looked down. 

“Hamilton,” he said with a sharp intake a breath. 

Hamilton stood quickly, averting his eyes. “Can we talk?” 

“Of course,” George said. He quickly unlocked the door to his office and then led Hamilton to his personal office. 

“I was in town for an academic conference and I finally decided to open your letter ,” Hamilton began as George sat down. 

“I-” George began. 

“Let me speak, please,” Hamilton cut him off. “Let it be said that forgiveness wasn’t my idea, but my partners encouraged me not to burn my bridges, so here I am. I can’t say that I want an actual relationship with you, but I know that you’re valuable to me as a future politician. I don’t want a father. I don’t need a father, but I do need a mentor.” 

It was more than George ever could have hoped for. 

“I would be honored,” George breathed out, nearly choking on the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Good,” Hamilton said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with Thomas.” Hamilton turned on his heel, and left the office. 

His son wanted to have a relationship with him. It wasn’t a father-son relationship, but it was more than George could have hoped for. 

It was going to be hard for George, but there were worse things that could happen: things like having Thomas Jefferson for a son-in-law. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Hate it? Are you interested in possibly betaing for me or releasing from the misery that is existence? 
> 
> Please let me know in the comments or hit me up at Cyrus-Breeze on the Tumblr.


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